


Blood on The Windshield

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a dark rainy night ends in tragedy for Blair Sandburg. can he live with the guilt?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood on The Windshield

**Author's Note:**

> first time slash writer. feedback welcome. please be gentle with the newbie..... 

## Blood on The Windshield

by Erica Livingston

Author's webpage: <http://tvfanfic.homestead.com>

* * *

Blood on the Windshield 

By Erica Livingston  
(rickilivingston@yahoo.com)  
May 11, 2001 

Another cold rainy night in Cascade. I pull out of the parking lot of The Purple Pepper and head for home. The Volvo's engine makes little knocking noises that make a rhythm against the gently falling rain on the windshield. I add the sound of the wipers squeaking back and forth and imagine I've created a new tribal beat. I laugh to myself. Yeah right, I'm creating new music here in my car to counteract the evening I just spent in retro-disco hell. It had to be disco night on the one night I give in to temptation and go to check out the newest gay/straight so called 'mixed' bar in town. 

I think I was the closest thing to a straight person in the whole place. It's nice to advertise as a place where everyone is welcome, but the reality is that a place that feels comfortable to gays just doesn't feel quite so comfortable to straights. I guess I can understand since I used to be one. A straight, that is. Now, I'm not so sure what I am. I still feel like I could be attracted to women. I'm just not at the moment. But I'm not really attracted to men either. Well, not to men in general. Only to one in particular. 

I turn the car onto Prescott Street. Another few blocks and I'll be home. I'm sort of relieved that I didn't find what I was looking for tonight. At least I don't smell of other men or sex. I smell like tobacco and beer and maybe a hint of pot, but not sex. Not that I didn't have offers. But, you see, none of them were what I was looking for. None of them were Jim. 

And even though I thought I was going there to check out other men, to see if any of them would have the same effect on me that Jim does lately, I now have to admit that I was only looking for Jim. Or a Jim substitute maybe. Since I know I can never have the real thing. Oh, I can have him as my closest friend, even as a brother, but I can never have him the way I want him, the way I desire him. 

When did this start anyway? When did I suddenly develop sexual desires for my absolutely totally straight he-man partner and roommate? I think it's been coming on gradually and I just suddenly noticed it last night. I mean it shocked me, completely and utterly shocked me. 

I was standing there in the kitchen, just turning around from closing the refrigerator door, and there was Jim, right in my space, reaching to get a beer out, a very innocent move on his part, and suddenly there we were, all brushed up against each other, all close warm bodies touching. And then reality hit and I pulled away, praying that he didn't notice the increasing bulge in my pants, my sudden sweating and shallow breathing as my body reported in that it was turned on and ready to go. Whoa, wait a minute here, turned on by my male partner? Ready to go where? I wouldn't even know what to do with him even if I could have him. 

So, I made a hasty departure, said my quickest "Heading to bed now, Goodnight, Jim." and sealed myself inside my room. 

For a while after that I listened to Jim as he sat in the living room drinking his beer and channel surfing. He had the sound turned down so low I couldn't hear it but I could hear the clicking of the remote each time he changed the channel. A little while later he got up and went to bed. I listened to the creak of his bed as he settled in and I pictured myself lying down next to him; arm thrown over his side, faces together breathing each other's air. 

Then I began to wonder. Was I gay? Had I been repressing it all these years and now it had suddenly decided to come out? Could somebody become gay or did they have to have been that way all along and just didn't realize it? I tried to remember if I had ever felt this way about any other man ever in my life. The only one I could remember was one teacher I'd had in high school. I had one hell of a crush on him. At the time I had thought it was a case of father figure worship, but maybe I was wrong. Would my wish to have him take me to ball games and movies and invite me to live in his spare bedroom have eventually turned into a desire to have him invite me into his bed? 

Somehow, I don't think so. I can only remember thinking he'd have made a great father for me, and wondering why I couldn't get Naomi interested. Sure, he was already married. But he didn't have any kids, so nobody would really be hurt if Naomi seduced him and stole him away from his wife. Then they could get married and he could be my father and we could live my happily ever after dream. No, I don't think I wanted to have sex with the man. 

But I did want to have sex with Jim. Damn, I wanted to have sex with Jim. What do you do when you suddenly realize you've been lusting after your male best friend for probably months now? What do you do when your lifelong sexual orientation is suddenly brought into question? 

I turn off Prescott onto Sycamore. The rain has let up into a light mist so I cut off the wipers. The streetlight up ahead is out but the lack of light is fine with me. It's been a depressing evening. I've discovered that 'I only have eyes for Jim'. Knowing I can't have him leaves me wondering if I'll spend the rest of my life ruined for any serious relationships. 

Suddenly a shadow of something thumps into the passenger side of the windshield. I screech to a stop and whatever it is rolls off toward the front of my car. Oh, God, I've hit something. I slam the car into park and jump out, leaving the door hanging open. Fear wells up inside me and makes my heart pound and I can't seem to get a good breathe of air, but I run around to the front of the car and fall to my knees. Oh, God, Oh God, it can't be. I can't have. I can't have done this. Oh, God! 

The headlight beam illuminates the body on the ground. Oh God, I can't believe this. It can't be real. Please let me be dreaming. Jim, I have to call Jim. I have to call Jim now. I can't take my eyes off her. But I have to call Jim. Jim will come and figure this out. Jim will make it better; make it go away. This can't be happening. Oh God, this cannot be happening. 

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and push the button programmed for Jim's cell phone. I know he's probably at home, but I can't think right now. I can't think about anything but what I've just done. Will they send me to jail for this? I should go to jail for this. Oh God, what have I done? 

"Ellison." Jim's voice feels like my lifeline. I want to grab onto it and drag him here through the phone line. 

"Jim........Jim........Jim, help." My voice sounds all scratchy and weak like an old 45rpm record playing on an old fashioned record player. 

I look back down at the body on the road, the body on the road, Oh God, the body on the road in front of my car, my car that hit her, Oh God, my car that hit her and now she's dead. Oh God, Jim. 

* * *

My cell phone ringing brings me out of a shallow sleep. I'm never in a deep sleep until Sandburg gets home. Until I hear him come in I feel like I'm on guard, like I can't rest until all who belong here are safely tucked in. Silly, I know. He's a grown up adult after all. He doesn't need me to wait up for him like some overwrought parent. Well, I have to admit maybe my feelings for him these days aren't quite parental. No, not parental at all. 

But no matter what I feel, I'll keep my distance. Last night was a close call. I went to get a beer out of the refrigerator and somehow didn't give him enough space to step away before I reached in. We ended up kind of smushed right up against each other. If I hadn't been so afraid I'd turn him off and make him take off running I'd have allowed myself to enjoy our brief 'almost hug'. But I don't want to lose him. I know I can never actually have him, at least not the way I want, but I can't bear the thought of him being completely out of my life so I'll keep him as my closest friend, brother almost, but I'll never let him know that I want him as anything more than that. I'll never give him cause to leave me. 

I grab the cell phone off my night table and flip it on answering in my standard "Ellison." figuring it's probably work related at this time of night. Either that or Blair's car broke down again. 

"Jim........Jim........Jim, help." Blair's voice squeaks out at me, almost too quietly for me to hear. I can hear his quickened breathing and his racing heart right over the phone and it scares me right out of bed. Without giving it a thought, I'm pulling on my jeans and slipping into my shoes. 

"Chief!" I call out to him using my firm all business voice. "Chief, tell me where you are." 

"Jim, Oh God, Jim." His voice is a little stronger but I can hear the sobs trying to take over. 

I take the stairs in no more than a second, slip my holster and gun on, grab my jacket and I'm out the door. 

"What is it, Chief? Where are you?" I demand, climbing into the truck and gunning it. 

"I need to know where you are Chief. I'm in the truck ready to come for you, but you need to tell me where you are. Please, Blair, tell me where you are." 

"Jim, she's dead. She's just a baby.......... and she's dead. Oh God, Jim, what am I going to do? I didn't see her and suddenly she's there and a second later she's laying on the road and she's dead. Oh God, Jim. I can't deal with this. I can't." 

"Blair, listen to me. You have to tell me where you are right now, okay?" 

"Oh, sorry. I'm on Sycamore right before the Bay street bridge crosses over, almost home. I almost made it all the way home. Oh God, Jim where are you? I need you here now." 

"I'm on my way, Chief. Just go sit in the car, okay? Just sit in the car and I'll be right there." 

I debate calling it in, but decide to check it out first. I'm only a block away. A minute and a half isn't going to make any difference here. 

I pull my truck up in front of the Volvo and leave the headlights on to put more light on the small body lying on the road. 

Oh God, he's right. It is only a baby. I bend down next to her and take a close look. She's about three years old if even that, a little girl with blonde curls, thin little arms and legs bare in the cold wet night. I almost get up to get her a blanket before I remember. The child is dead, one side of her body crushed and flat. Damn, what was a little girl doing out running around in the street at one o'clock in the morning? I use my radio to call it in. What a harsh call to have to make, a fatal accident involving a child pedestrian. I want to get my hands on this little girl's parents and scream at them for letting this happen. How could they have been so careless with this precious little life that she was out wandering around in the middle of the night. 

Blair is standing by the front of his car staring down at the body. I don't know if he's even noticed that I'm here. I look into his face and see the anguish dripping down his cheeks in big fat drops. His heart is trying to bang its way out of his chest and his lungs are fighting for every constricted breath. My poor pacifist Blair. This whole thing is killing him. 

I step in front of him blocking his view of the child. He startles and glances at me before turning away to look down at his feet. 

"I don't know what happened, Jim. I don't know. I was just driving home. The streetlight was out. I couldn't see farther than my headlights, but then suddenly she was there. She hit my windshield and I jammed on the brakes and then she fell over the hood. I jumped right out but she was already dead. Oh God, she's really dead isn't she?" 

"Blair." I grab him by the shoulder and turn him away from the body, walking him over to the truck. "I want you to sit in the truck for a little while, okay? It's going to be confusing out here in a few minutes. I want you to stay put. Can you do that for me, Chief?" 

He looks at me as I open the truck door for him and nod, climbing in and looking at the floor. 

"Jim." He calls to me as I start to close the door. 

"Yeah, Chief?" 

"What's going to happen? I killed her." 

"Oh Chief, Blair, it was an accident. There was nothing you could have done. It just happened. No one is going to hold you responsible here. This child shouldn't have been out at this time of night. Her parents are responsible for failing to keep her safe." 

He looks at me with such devastation in his eyes I can't help myself. I lean over into the truck and drag him into a hug. He curls into me leaning his head into my shoulder and sighs. I've wanted nothing more than to hold him in my arms but I would give this up in a heartbeat if I could only go back and make this never have happened. 

I hear the sirens approaching and reluctantly pull away, patting his shoulder as I again start to close the door. 

"It'll be okay, Chief. You just stay put." 

He nods and stares back at the floor. 

* * *

I don't know how long I've been sitting here in Jim's truck. I think I must have zoned for a while or something cause suddenly I look up and there are flashing lights all around me. The street all around me is filled with police cars and other emergency vehicles. There's even a fire truck. I guess that's a standard response for a struck pedestrian. Oh God, a struck pedestrian? How can a three-year-old child even be a pedestrian? She wouldn't even have been walking all that long. Oh God. 

I scan the crowd of people, most of them in uniforms, either cops or paramedics or firefighters. Where's Jim? I notice a couple of uniformed officers standing by the side of my car talking. One of them nods his head toward me and they both look over. They see me looking back and they turn away abruptly, but I can tell what they were thinking. They were looking at the child killer. I killed a child. Oh, God, I killed a child. Please let me just go back and change this. Let me run into a tree or something and die myself if I have to. Just spare this child. Give her back her life and take mine. She's too young to die. She's just a baby. And God, I don't think I can live with this anyway. I just don't think I can. 

I don't see Jim until he's opening the door. Rafe is standing next to him and Brown is with him. Where did they come from? How long have they been here? I wonder if Simon is here somewhere, come to the scene to see the awful thing Sandburg did. Jim must have said something but I didn't notice cause now he's shaking my arm and calling my name. 

"Huh?" Don't I sound intelligent tonight? I don't know anything anymore. I think my brain closed up and took a hike. All I know is that there's a little girl dead in the street because of me. I put her there. I killed her. And I'll never know anything ever again. Because nothing else is ever going to matter ever again. Nothing will ever make a difference. Nothing can ever change what I did. 

"Chief, I want you to go with Brown and Rafe now, okay?" Jim looks at me, a strange expression on his face. Is it guilt? 

"Where?" I ask, thinking he's going to send me home. I can't go home yet. I killed a little girl and her body is still lying on the road in front of my car. I can't leave here until she does, until they take her away. 

"They're taking you to the station, Blair. They need to test your blood alcohol level. You know it's standard procedure." 

Oh God, standard procedure, right. They think I was drunk. They think I was drunk and I killed a little girl and they'll send me to jail cause I did have a drink or maybe it was two and it'll look like I was drunk and oh, God. 

"Jim, they think I was drunk, that I ran into that little girl cause I was drunk?" 

"No!" Jim yells at me. "You know it's standard procedure. All fatal accidents...." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know." And I do know. He's told me this before. You could never say I haven't spent my last three years tagging along after Jim without having learned a few things about police procedure. And I know if I come out too high on the test I'll be in jail before I can spit. 

I start to get out of the truck but I want to talk to Jim alone before I go off with Brown and Rafe. They're good guys, I know, but they'll do what they have to do and I have to let Jim know what might happen. 

"Jim, can I um.....talk to you alone a minute?" 

"Sure Chief." He motions for the guys to wait by their car and they walk away. 

"Jim, man, I did have a drink or two but I'm not drunk." 

"It's okay, Blair. It's okay. A drink or two shouldn't put you over the limit. You'll be okay." 

He sounds so sure of it that I almost believe him but I'm not sure. Maybe I did have too much to drink. Maybe I was drunk. I mean, I didn't feel drunk but I also didn't see the little girl until she hit my windshield. Maybe if I hadn't been drinking I would have seen her before she got that close. And if the streetlight hadn't been out or if I had Jim's vision. 

"Okay, Jim." 

I walk over to the car where Brown and Rafe are waiting. I guess I should be happy that I have friends within the police department. I guess I should be happy I'm not wearing handcuffs and being put into the back of a patrol car. But, Damn, I'm having trouble here being happy about anything. 

I nod to the guys and open the back door. As I slide into the back seat I glance back and see Jim watching me, a worried look in his pale face. My eyes meet his and he nods and smiles a grim smile at me. Oh Jim, what am I going to do? 

Brown is driving really slow as if taking our time getting there will make it any better for me. Or maybe seeing this terrible accident has made him think more about driving carefully. Rafe turns in his seat to look at me, a reassuring smile on his face. 

"Don't worry, Sandburg." He says. "It'll be all right. This is just procedure. You know that don't you?" 

I nod. I do know that but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. 

"Did you get Emily Peterson or Hazel Brackley?" Brown asks Rafe. 

Oh God. Those are the nurses the department usually uses to draw blood for drug and blood alcohol tests. I was thinking they'd just use the Breathalyzer or that new thing, the Intoxometer. If they do the blood test that means they're sending it out to the Washington State Police Crime lab for analysis and that can take up to a month to get the results. I can't wait that long to find out. I can't spend the next month with that hanging over my head. 

"Hazel." Rafe answered. 

"Um, hey, guys." I call timidly from the back seat. I'm about to ask a favor. I hope it's not too much to ask but I need to know. 

"Yeah, Blair?" Rafe answers. 

"Could you guys do me a favor? I know you have to get the blood sample and send it off but could you let me do the Breathalyzer too? I just got to know. Please?" 

"Sure thing, Hairboy. Don't worry. We'll take care of you." Brown answers. 

"Yeah, you know if we didn't Ellison would have our butts." Rafe says smiling. 

I know they'd take care of me anyway. They might have feared the great wrath of Ellison once but not since I've been around. They all think I tamed him. But I didn't have to tame him. All I had to do was be his friend. 

* * *

Something isn't right here. I don't know what it is yet, but something just isn't right. I look back at the body on the road. The medical examiner is finally here. I'm glad to see its Dan Wolfe. They recently added a part time ME and while she seems competent at her job she just doesn't seem to have much in the way of compassion. Look at me making judgments like that. A few years ago most people thought I was a cocky cold- hearted bastard. 

I walk over and watch Dan work, taking another look at the body while he takes a first look. The girl is unnaturally pale looking in the artificial lighting at the scene. She's wearing a thin cotton sundress, pink trimmed with white ribbon. I can see little Barbie underwear peeking out at the bottom of the short dress. And that's all she's wearing, no shoes, no jacket. This dress just isn't warm enough for the weather even if she were inside the house. Even if she wandered out from a nearby house she should still be dressed warmer than this. It's only May, not the middle of summer and Cascade doesn't warm up until the middle of June, at least not warm enough to dress a child like this. I notice Dan looks like he's finishing up. He'll be taking the body in and get started on an autopsy. 

"How soon for the results, Dan?" I ask, wondering if he knows about Blair's involvement here. 

He looks at me and I can see the sympathy in his face. He knows. 

"I'll get started as soon as we can get the body transported. I'll let you know as soon as I know anything." 

"Thanks, Dan. We appreciate it." I know he knows I'm including Sandburg. He has always seemed to like Blair. 

He walks away toward his technicians who have been standing by waiting for permission to move the body from the scene. 

I kneel down to take one last look and that's when I notice it. There are faint lines around her wrists. At first glance they look like baby fat creases but when I look a little closer they almost look like she had thin strings tied around her wrists some time recently. I look down at her ankles. Nothing there. I take a closer look at her feet, cute little baby feet that hardly seem big enough to carry around a child's body, clean white feet with little pink toes, just starting to get a bluish tint. I stand up to turn away trying to figure out what it is I'm seeing that seems so wrong to me. 

I glance up at the Volvo, no damage at all to the body of the car. The only evidence of impact is the cracked windshield. There isn't even any blood on the windshield or on the car. 

Wait a minute! That's it. This child didn't wander out into the path of a car. This child wasn't walking anywhere. Her feet are completely clean. She would have had to have been walking through mud to get out here onto the street. Even with the light misting of rain we've been having her feet would still be dirty and probably scraped as well. 

Then looking back at the car and to the ground I realize that if the car had hit this child standing up on the road there would have to be a dent in the bumper or the front side panel and as crushed as she is on one side the car would have had to have been going pretty fast, much faster than I've ever seen Sandburg drive. And if it had been going that fast, fast enough to account for the damage to the body, the little girl would have been thrown at least ten to twenty feet from the car, not fallen right in front of the car. 

"Hey, Dan." I call him back over. "Look at this." 

I go over the discoveries I've made and he agrees with me. As we're talking I happen to glance up and notice that we're standing almost under the Bay street bridge. An unsettling thought occurs to me and I think Dan sees it in my face. If what I think happened is what actually happened we're dealing with a murder here. 

"What are you thinking Jim?" Dan asks. 

"Dan, would the damage to the body make sense if she had been thrown from the bridge down onto Sandburg's windshield?" 

Dan looked up at the bridge and down at the car and slowly nodded. 

"Do you think she was alive at the time?" I ask, not really sure I want the answer. 

Dan looks back at the body. He signals his guys to go ahead and transport and we watch in silence as they lift her and gently place her in the child size body bag. I wonder for a moment why they even make child size body bags. Maybe if they stopped making them there would stop being a need for them. I know that's backward but wouldn't it be nice if it would work? 

Dan looks back at me. "I'll know more when I get the autopsy done. I'll call you as soon as I know." 

"Thanks, Dan." I watch him walk away, glad that I'm not headed off to do what he's going to be doing. 

I go to Sandburg's car and turn off the headlights. Then I take out the keys and his backpack and lock it up. I think briefly about dropping him off here later to drive it home but I don't think that's such a great idea. It's only a couple of blocks away. Maybe I should just run it home and then walk back to get my truck. 

A uniformed officer walks up. I recognize him as Robertson. He went through the academy with Rafe. I remember seeing them partner for a while before Rafe made detective. 

"We've finished canvassing the area, sir. No one from any of the nearby houses is missing a child or even knows a child with that description living anywhere in the neighborhood. We're about ready to let everybody go if that's okay with you?" 

I nod and give him a smile. "Good job, Robertson. Thanks for all your help." 

"No problem sir. Anything else I can do for you before I get back on patrol?" 

"Actually there is one thing, if you wouldn't mind. I'd really like to get my partner's car home. Maybe you could drive it for me?" 

"Sure thing, Detective." 

I hand him the keys and he starts to walk toward the Volvo but turns back. "You know sir, we're all behind your partner. This was a tragic thing to happen but we all pretty much agree it could have happened to any of us. It wasn't his fault." 

"Thanks. I'll tell him you said that." 

"Is he going to be all right?" 

"I'll make sure he is." 

He smiles and goes to the Volvo. I hop in my truck and start it up, driving slowly up the road so Robertson can follow me. What he just said really made me feel good. I was a little worried that the uniforms might blame Sandburg for this, might make an issue of it and use it against him. It's nice to know that at least some of them are on our side. 

* * *

Hazel took my blood. She said the results could take up to a month but that she'd ask them to rush it for me. Hazel kind of likes me. We went out a couple of times but she just seemed too pushy for me. I don't like to give up all control when I go out on a date. She even wanted to tell me what to wear. 

After she left Brown let me use the Breathalyzer. I blew a .04 which is just fine. I'd have to blow a .08 to be considered intoxicated, at least in this state. Some states don't consider anything below a .10 to be intoxicated. Anyway .04 is well below the level of intoxication so I'm okay as far as that goes. In a way I feel relieved but then my mind flashes on the image of that little girl's body lying on the road and I feel guilty for experiencing even that momentary relief. 

I'm left sitting at Jim's desk. Brown and Rafe both went off to do something. I don't know what. I think they really wanted to give me a few minutes alone to maybe pull myself together. I look at the clock. It's only four A.M. It's only been three hours since it happened. Just three hours and twenty minutes ago I was driving out of the parking lot at the Purple Pepper, thinking about my recent sexual dilemma. Now it seems to unimportant. What difference does it make who I'm attracted to? After what I did I can't see anyone ever being attracted to me again. Not in this life. 

I wonder where Jim is. I think I want to go home. I reach into my pocket and find that I do have enough money for bus fare. I can leave a note for Jim and head on home. I just don't want to be here anymore. I killed someone tonight and all the cops want to give me the impression that it's not my fault, that I didn't do anything wrong. But even if I didn't mean to, I know that I did do something wrong or else a child wouldn't be dead from my car hitting her. 

I have to get out of here. I have to go home and try to deal with this. I look around. Brown and Rafe are still out of the office. I grab a notepad from Jim's desk and write him a quick note to let him know I'll be at home. 

Then I get up and walk to the stairs. I need to walk down the stairs. The elevator is too easy. I need to do something that uses energy. I push through the heavy door into the stairwell and begin taking the stairs down. If I exit the Conner street exit that will put me right by the bus stop. I hope I won't have to wait too long for a bus. 

* * *

I get off the elevator and head into Major Crimes, looking around for Blair. Not seeing him, I look for Rafe or Brown and notice they are in the break room so I head in there. They look guiltily up at me from the table where they sitting with coffee and candy bars. 

"Hi Jim." Brown says. 

I stand there staring at them, leaning onto the doorframe with my arms crossed in front of me. 

"I guess you want to know where Blair is, huh?" Rafe mumbles. 

I nod. I've noticed over the years that body language is sometimes more effective than words. 

"He blew a .04 on the breathalyzer so we didn't really have any reason to keep him here. We left him sitting at your desk and I guess he was tired so he went home." Brown explains. 

"He left you a note." Rafe says, smiling hesitantly. "On your desk." 

I surprise them with a smile. I'm glad Sandburg went home although I'd have rather driven him there myself. 

"Thanks for taking care of the blood test for me. I think Dan and I found something but I can't say for sure until the autopsy's done." 

They both nod and I turn to head back to my desk when they call me back. 

"Hey Jim." Brown calls to me. As I turn he throws a candy bar toward me. I catch it and see that it's a Snicker's bar, my favorite. 

"You look like you could use it." He says. 

I nod. "Thanks." I guess I do look kind of tired and worn down. 

I can feel the quick energy from the candy bar hit me moments after I've taken my first bite. The commercial doesn't lie. They do provide quick energy. Or maybe I just feel better cause I expect to feel better. Either way it doesn't really matter. The result is all that matters. I didn't get any sleep all night and it's almost morning. I need the little pick up I can get from candy and coffee. I've got the candy. Now I'm headed into Simon's office to get the coffee. He has better coffee than the break room and I'm sure he won't mind if I have a pot ready and waiting for him when he gets in this morning. I snag the note from Blair off my desk as I pass by and head into Simon's office. 

The note is short and to the point. "Jim, I'm tired. I'm going home, taking the bus, and going to try to get some sleep so don't call me. I'll see you later. Wake me up if you hear anything important. Blair." 

I guess by important he means if we identify the child or get the autopsy report in. I really want to tell him what I think really happened but I want to have some corroboration from the autopsy first. I hate the idea that he thinks he hit and killed this little girl. But if it turns out that she was murdered, that she was thrown down off that bridge onto his windshield where the force of the impact killed her, is that going to make him feel much better? I don't know, but at least then we'll have a valid murder case to investigate. And I will track down the murderer. There's nothing worse in my book than a child murderer, nothing more vile than someone who preys on the innocent. 

By the time Simon walks into his office I'm sitting back with my coffee, finishing my Snicker's bar waiting to fill him in on what's happened during the night while he's been sleeping. 

* * *

When I get off the bus just a block up from home I notice the Volvo sitting in its usual space in the parking lot. I guess Jim brought it back for me. I don't know if I ever want to drive it again. Maybe I'll sell it and get a new car. Maybe I'll sell it and not get a new car. Maybe I'll never drive again. If I don't drive I can't hit anybody, right? Maybe that should be my penance. Like anything I could possibly do in this life will ever make up for killing a child with my car. If there is such a thing as karma I'm going to owe heavily in my next life. 

I try not to look at the slight crack I think I can see forming in the windshield glass. But I realize I don't have my key to get inside the loft. It was in the ignition along with my car keys. I take a quick peek inside. No keys and no backpack. Jim must have taken them out. I guess I'll have to use my hidden spare. I just hope I can remember where I hid it this time. Ever since that thing with Freeman I've been moving the spare key around every week or so and keeping it out of sight. I don't ever want to make Jim come home to a mess like that again. He never blamed me for it but it was my fault. If I hadn't left a key sitting over the door where any moron could find it he wouldn't have gotten in and left that smelly surprise of his. I'll never understand how he got that manure up to the third floor anyway. 

I ride the elevator up and head over to the door. I look down at Mrs. Petersons door and remember that I left the key under her flowerpot. I step quietly down to her door and lift the pot. Yep, there it is, right where I left it. I'm glad she didn't decide to take that flower in or something. I never even thought of that possibility until now. 

I open the door and go inside. It feels strange. I feel like I was a different person when I walked out of here last night. I was a different person. I was an innocent person and now I'm not. Now I'm a guilty person. 

I have to meditate. I really have to meditate. I go to my room and change into some clean clothes, a loose pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Then I gather up my scented candles and head for the coffee table. I position my candles and light them, then put some quiet music on the stereo and sit down on the floor. 

Concentrating on the flames from the candles I try to relax myself and slip into a meditation. Each time I close my eyes I flash back onto the vision of that little girl laying on the road. Damn, I'm never going to be able to do this. 

I keep trying for a little while longer before I decide it's hopeless. I need to get closer to nature. Sometimes when I've been really upset about something I've had to go sit on the beach to be able to meditate. There's something about the sound of the waves crashing over the sand, maybe it's just the feeling of the power of the water that makes me feel closer to nature. It isn't that far to the closest beach and it's too early in the season for there to be anybody there. It's the perfect place. 

I write a quick note for Jim telling him where I'm going. Then I grab my spare car key from the desk in my room. It's going to be hard to make myself drive but I don't have much choice. The beach isn't on the bus line and I don't have enough cash on hand for a cab. I have to drive if I want to get there so I have to drive. 

It's still just a tad dark outside when I get in the car. The sunrise is only moments away. I wish it would just stay dark. How can the sun rise on a day like this? A little girl who was alive yesterday is dead today. I drive along the coast road toward the beach. I can see the ocean from here but the coastline along here is all rocky so I head down toward the Cascade park beach. 

The sun starts to glare on the windshield as the sunrise begins. I glance over toward the water and I can see the glint of sunlight flashing over the waves. It's going to be a beautiful sunny spring day. It's going to be a day of hell. 

I look back at the road. I haven't seen another car since I turned onto the coast road. I guess it's too early and it's not like anyone drives this way to work around here. This road only sees a lot of traffic during the height of summer beach season. 

My eyes flash back toward the glare on the windshield. Why is it so red looking? It's dark and red and looks like it's falling in rivulets down the windshield. I pull the car over and close my eyes. What is happening? What's wrong with me? 

I open my eyes again and force myself to look. Oh God, there are great big drops of blood sliding down my windshield. It's seeping through into the car and I reach my hand out to touch it and my hand comes away red and sticky. Red and sticky with a child's blood. Oh God, I can't drive this car. There's blood all over it. It's running in river's over the windshield and down into the dashboard. I can't stay in here. I've got to get away, get away from all this blood. 

I jump put of the car, slamming the door. I just know the whole thing is going to fill up with blood and it's going to seep out through the doors and follow me wherever I go. I have to get away. I have to run. I wish Jim were here. I wish Jim was with me and would stay with me and never leave me alone again. But damn, I know after this he isn't even going to want to be around me anymore. Jim is the Sentinel, the great protector of the innocent. He's not going to want to keep spending time with a baby killer. 

I don't turn back and look at the car. I don't want to see it. I don't want to ever see it again. I run. I have to get to the water. The great waves of the ocean water will purify me; clean the blood away from me. I wish I could have driven the Volvo down over the rocks and into the ocean. Let the ocean purify the car. Let the ocean suck the car down into its depths and keep it there for eternity. 

I keep falling on the jagged rocks but I can't stop running. I have to put some distance between myself and the bloody car. I hear the waves crashing into the rock covered shore and I'm drawn to the water. 

My knees and elbows hurt by the time I get to the tide but I don't care. I run right into the water until it bats my head around. I feel better already and I laugh at the thought that running into the ocean has medicinal benefits. I stand still and let the waves push me around. The salty water stings my skin but it feels right. 

It's cold out here in the water but I need to feel cold right now. I need to freeze the horrible thoughts right out of my mind. The sun has risen while I've been standing here. It's fully up there in the sky looking down, bright and alive against the ocean depth. I can't feel my arms and legs anymore so I decide to get back to shore. 

Maybe I'll finally be able to meditate sitting on the rocks in the sun by the ocean waves. I turn and struggle back toward the shore. I feel like I'm walking in deep mud. My legs are so heavy and numb. I fall just as I get to the rocks and crawl the rest of the way up onto a big rock that sits high along the shoreline. It looks like the perfect place to meditate. I climb up and lay flat on my stomach just taking a moment to breathe. I'll turn over and sit up in a minute, just need to catch my breath. 

I thought the sun was out but I'm still so cold. The sun should be warm on the rocks soon and I'll get warmed up. I guess it'll be okay if I just lay here and rest a little while. After all, I don't have anywhere I need to go. Yeah, I'll just rest here for a little while. 

* * *

I thought about calling him but if he did manage to fall asleep I don't want to wake him up. I'll just wait till I get home and wake him up. I want to be with him anyway when I tell him the news. I want to be able to see how he's handling it, help him deal with it if he needs me. 

The little girl has been identified. Her name was Marissa Breckenridge and she was a kidnap victim. She was last seen playing in her own fenced in back yard a week ago in a small town called Kahili in South Carolina. Her mother had been home with her and had just stepped into the house for a few minutes because the six-week-old baby was crying. She was only gone long enough to pick up the baby and his diaper bag and step back outside. But in just that amount of time Marissa had disappeared. 

The Breckenridges had cooperated with the kidnappers and hadn't called the police. They had gotten the money that the kidnappers asked for, delivered it to the arranged spot and waited to be contacted about the whereabouts of their daughter. That had been five days ago and up until this morning they had still been waiting. 

They had called the police two days after the ransom had been delivered. The police had tried to find a lead to follow, any lead, but there was nothing. Whatever evidence may have been available to them if they'd been called in right away was gone by now. There was nothing to indicate who was responsible or where they might have gone. There was no sign of the child, living or dead. Until now. 

The autopsy report had shown that the child had at some point had her wrists tied with thin cord but it had been removed at least two days prior to her death. She had been given liquids in apparently limited quantities since she'd been mildly dehydrated and had probably not been fed recently. The cause of death was an overdose of tranquilizers, probably ingested in a glass of juice. The time of death was about half a day before she'd been thrown from the bridge onto Sandburg's windshield. 

I pull up at the loft and see that the Volvo is gone. I didn't think Blair would have wanted to drive it again for a while. I wonder where he's gone. I head upstairs to see if he's left a note. He's usually pretty good about leaving me notes. He seems to think I've got an instinctive need to always know where he is. Maybe he's right. It does seem to really bother me when I can't find him. 

The note is right there on the refrigerator. What's he doing going to the beach. It's not even fifty degrees out there. With the wind factored into it down by the water it's got to be damned cold. I hope he had enough sense to wear his coat and hat but even as that thought occurs to me I notice his coat still hanging on the rack by the door along with his hat and his glove are right there on the table. 

I grab the coat and head back out. I know the spot he likes on the beach. I'm sure I won't have any trouble finding him. Heading down the coast road I glance out toward the water. The waves look wild today and I briefly give thought to how long it's been since I've been surfing. Too rough for that today. 

There's the car. The Volvo is pulled over to the side of the road by the rocky part of the coast. He didn't even go all the way to the beach. I wonder why? Here he would have had to climb over all those rocks to get anywhere near the water. 

I scan the shoreline for him but don't see him so I listen, slowly focusing my hearing on area between the road where the car is and the ocean waves. Filtering out the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks, I finally pick up a muffled groan and then breathing. I move as quickly as I can, picking my way across the rocky terrain. 

He's lying on top of a big rock. It looks like he's asleep but he's moaning and shivering in his sleep. I climb onto the rock next to him and reach over to shake him gently awake. No wonder he's shivering. He's wet. Damn him, he's been in the water on a day like this. Is he trying to kill himself? He's going to get pneumonia. I shake him harder. 

"Blair, wake up!" 

I roll him over onto his back and smack his face, not too hard of course. 

"Blair, Sandburg, wake up!" 

Finally he stirs and opens his eyes. 

"Jim?" He looks around him and then at me. 

"How'd you get here?" 

"I followed your trail, Chief. It wasn't hard. Now are you ready to go home and get into some warm dry clothes?" 

"Oh God, Jim. There was blood. There was blood all over the windshield. It was dripping down into the car." 

"It's okay, Chief." I tell him. "There's no blood on the windshield or anywhere else on the car. And you didn't kill the little girl. We found out the truth now." 

I pull him up to a sitting position and he looks at me, I mean right at me and he's only six inches away from my face. I'm almost breathing his air. 

"What?" He asks. He seems a little confused. I hope he's not hypothermic. I really need to get him home and warm. 

"Come on, Chief. We need to get you warmed up. I'll tell you all about it on the way home, okay?" 

He lets me help him down from the rock and we head off to the truck. He's limping and I glance down and see that his knees are all scraped up, his sweatpants sporting new rips at the knees. I can see I'm going to have to take care of him when we get home. It's a good thing I like taking care of him. I seem to be called to do it often enough. 

* * *

I'm in the bathroom. I don't really remember how I got here. But I won't mention that to Jim. I sooo don't want to go to the hospital. I know it was stupid of me to go in the water as cold as it is. I know that. But sometimes a person just has to do something stupid. 

Jim's running a warm bath for me. I'm sitting here looking at his back as he leans over to put the plug in the drain. The water's already running and adjusted to a nice warm temperature. I can see the steam rising from the inside of the tub as the warm water hits the cold porcelain. I admire the steal muscles in his back and picture him using those strong arms to hold me tight and keep all the nasty stuff in the world away from me. He could do it, too. I know he could. My blessed protector. 

He told me all about the little girl having been kidnapped and killed by her kidnappers. We have to find these idiots. We have to find them and send them to jail forever for what they did. I feel tears leaking down my face but my hands are too cold and numb to wipe them away. 

I don't know how to feel right now. Should I be happy that I didn't really kill the little girl? Should I be sad that she's dead? Of course. But at least I know I didn't kill her. And I know that there was nothing I could have done to prevent her being killed. I didn't even know anything about her. So, it's all right now. I'm going to be all right. I didn't kill anyone so I'm going to be all right. I still think I want to get rid of the Volvo. I don't think I can ever drive it again without seeing blood dripping down the windshield. 

I feel kind of numb, inside and out. Maybe the bath will help on the outside but I think only time will help on the inside. 

Jim comes back over to me and kneels in front of me, pulling the partially stuck sweatpants away from my bloody knees. Strange how I don't even feel them. He takes my hands and pulls. I don't know what he wants me to do so I just look at him. He seems far away like I'm at the end of a long tunnel but I know he isn't far away cause he's touching me. 

"Stand up, Chief." He says. I think this isn't the first time he's said it but it's just now filtered through my cold brain. 

I try to stand up by it seems my legs are locked and I just can't get maneuvered right. Jim pulls on my hands again and suddenly I'm standing and I'm doing fine. 

He pulls my sweatpants down and lifts each foot in turn to pull each leg of them off. I hold on to his shoulders with both hands to keep from losing my balance. He feels warm and solid under my hands and I wish I could pull him closer. Who needs a warm bath if you can have a warm Jim? 

Next come my shorts. Somewhere deep inside I think how under the right circumstances, like maybe last night before I went out to the Purple Pepper, this would have been one of my dreams come true. 

Jim stands up and I keep my arms glued to his shoulders, but he has to lift one at a time to pull my arms out of my soaked t-shirt. No wonder I'm cold. I'm all wet. When did that happen? 

I suddenly realize I'm standing there completely naked in front of Jim and he's got his hands on my sides steadying me and I have my hands on his shoulders. I feel kind of tingly all over. Maybe the numbness is wearing off. I look down. Maybe not. I'm getting hard. Now that I've seen it I can feel it. Little 'neo-hippy witchdoctor punk junior' is alive and well and making himself known. Damn! Not now. Jim can see. He's going to throw you out and never talk to you again. Damn! 

I keep my eyes averted. If I don't look at it then it isn't real. And if I don't look at Jim he won't see me. Isn't that how it works? Tell me that's how it works. 

He's letting go of my sides. Oh, no. Is he leaving? No wait. He's taking my hand and pulling me over to the bathtub. Oh, good. Maybe the warm water will take care of junior, put him back to sleep or something. 

I step into the tub and sit down, leaning back and closing my eyes. It feels good. The water is warm and friendly and I can finally relax. 

I open my eyes when I feel a rag being drawn over my skin. Isn't that nice? Jim is actually bathing me. The rag swipes over my arms, so gently, then down across my chest. Oh wow, he's dropped the rag into the water and his hand is smoothing over my chest, touching a couple of very sensitive places. Oh God, I have the nipple ring in. I had forgotten all about that. Jim is seeing the nipple ring for the first time. What's he going to think? 

I look down at his hand as it slowly strokes across from one side to the other, gently grazing the nipple ring as if by accident. I timidly take a peek up toward Jim's face. He looks up at me, and smiles. His other hand comes up to my face and brushes my hair back, then slides across my stubbly chin. 

He glances back toward my chest where his other hand has started methodically playing with each nipple in turn and he looks back at me without stopping for even a second. 

"Is this all right, Chief?" He asks, looking at me nervously as if expecting me to say no. How can he know that all I've been dreaming about lately is his touch? 

I nod. "All right!" I say, smiling. Oh God, I'm blushing. Blushing virgin Blair. 

Jim's hand moves farther down rubbing little circles down my stomach, moving down inch by inch until finally he's stroking my already hard penis. 

He looks up at me again and stops what he's doing, keeping his hand still on my penis and I realize he's asking permission again. So considerate of him, isn't it? 

"It's all right." I manage to say through my quickening breath. 

I lean back further and pull my knees up, separating my legs for him. 

Then he stops. 

"Damn, Chief. I forgot about your knees. I need to take care of them. And your elbows too." 

He pushes my legs flat in the water and grabs the rag, wiping the blood from my knees. It looks strange to see him wiping off my knees when my dick is sitting straight up out of the water almost crying out loud for some attention. 

He takes each arm and carefully wipes my elbows, then pulls me up. 

"Come on, Blair. Let's get these taken care of, okay?" 

The next thing I know, I'm lying back on my bed and Jim's putting first aid ointment on my knees and elbows. He puts a big band-aid on each elbow and wraps gauze around each knee. Then he just stands there looking down at me, his eyes raking my body from top to bottom and back again. 

My penis, which had begun to sag a little, sits up and takes notice of the renewed attention. Please Jim, go back to what you were doing in the bath. I'm biting my lower lip, something I always find myself doing when I'm nervous or worried. 

Jim's hand reaches down and touches my lip. Then he kneels over me and gives me a soft little kiss, his lips brushing gently up against mine. 

Yup, little hippie boy junior is definitely at attention now. 

* * *

What am I doing? What the hell do I think I'm doing? I have Blair spread out on his bed like some kind of smorgasbord for my eyes and I'm just standing here looking at him. He's obviously turned on and I have to admit so am I. 

I want nothing more than to take off my clothes and get in bed with him. But is it the right thing to do? Is it fair of me to do this now when he's in such a vulnerable state? Would I be taking advantage of him? And more importantly would he hate me for it later? 

He looks up at me and smiles a timid little smile. Then his tongue sneaks out between his lips and his teeth start worrying at his bottom lip. I've seen him do this before. It usually means he's worried. I need to kiss those lips. I can't hold back any longer. 

I lean over him and kiss him, a very gentle kiss, just to see how he'll react. He kisses me back and pulls me closer. He wants me. I can't believe he wants me. 

"Jim. Please........get in bed with me?" 

I hesitate, not sure exactly what he expects of me. Does he just want me to lay here with him? Or does he understand what I want to do with him? 

He notices my hesitation. 

"Jim, let me tell you where I went last night, where I was on my way home from." 

I sit down on the side of the bed and wait. He takes my hands in his and holds them over his chest, over his heart. 

"I went to the Purple Pepper." 

I've heard of that place but haven't been there. I kind of think they cater to a younger crowd but I have heard that almost all of their patrons are gay men. I look at him, wondering why he would go to a place like that. 

"I was looking for something, Jim. But I didn't find it. You want to know why I didn't find it?" 

I nod. 

"I didn't find it there, because what I was looking for was right here at home. Because it turns out that what I was looking for wasn't a what. It was a who. It was you, Jim. I was looking for you and you weren't there. You were here in your bed upstairs, without me." 

Well, that changes things a little bit. Here I was feeling bad for having feelings for my male roommate and there he was feeling the same way. 

"So, can we get on with it now? I really want you, Jim." 

I smile and stand up, yanking my clothing off as fast as I can move. I stretch out beside him and kiss him again, pushing my body up against his, feeling our erections slide together in a whisper of ecstasy. 

Our kisses become deeper and we explore each other's mouths. Somewhere deep inside I can feel my soul jumping for joy. I am finally as close to Blair as I've wanted to be for a long time. I wonder when he figured out that he felt this way about me. 

I move my hips so that our erections are rubbing together and I feel him pushing back at me. I reach one hand around under him and massage his butt. 

"Jim....." He moans. "Jim, I want you to......you know." 

I stop all movement and look at him, making eye contact before saying anything. 

"Blair, baby, have you ever had sex with another man?" 

He shakes his head. 

"Then, we'll work up to that, okay? We'll take this slow and when the time is right, we'll have anal sex. Before we do, you have to be able to say the words. When you can tell me what you want, and I feel that you're ready, then we'll do it. 

"Okay." He looks down and then back up at me. "Jim, have you?" 

"Had sex with another man?" 

"Yeah." 

"It was a long time ago, but yeah I have a few times. But I've never made love with a man and that's what I want to do with you. I love you, Blair." 

I'm not usually so free with that big 'L' word, but somehow I couldn't keep from saying it to Blair. I guess because it's true and it's the only truth right now that matters. 

"I love you too, Jim." He says as he reaches up to pull me in for more kissing. 

He loves me. He actually loves me. Isn't it great? I don't remember when anything has ever made me feel so happy, so at peace with myself. 

* * *

Jim loves me. I am sooo in love with him and I thought I would just have to suffer for the rest of my life because I couldn't find a substitute and I thought I could never have the real Jim but hey guess what, I was wrong. 

Our bodies are melded together and I feel like I've finally come home, like I've been wandering around lost my whole life and here I am finally where I belong. It doesn't take long before we're both sticky with each other's cum and I think another bath might be in order but right now I am so wasted I don't think I could even stand up. 

Jim stays with me holding me tightly in his arms lazily covering my face with sweet little kisses. Who would have ever known he could be so tender? He's exactly how I've been imagining him. 

"Blair, baby, I'm going to get a rag and clean you up, okay? I'll be right back." 

He rolls over off the bed, taking the warmth with him. But at least he isn't gone long. I'm lying here in some kind of blissful stupor. All I want is for him to cuddle up with me and for us both to go to sleep. God, I hope he doesn't leave me here all alone to sleep by myself. As tired as I am I don't think I could sleep if he leaves me alone. 

The warm washrag feels good and before I know it I'm laying here alone all cleaned off. Then Jim comes back and takes my hands pulling on me. Oh Jim, can't we get some sleep now. Why do I have to get up? 

"Come on Chief, let's go up to my bed. It's dryer and warmer." He says. 

Okay, that makes sense. I hop right up and follow after him. He never lets go of my hands. Does he think I'll run away? I hope he knows that once I get into his bed once I'll never go back to my own bed. 

I lay down on the nice big Jim bed and he crawls in beside me, pulling the covers up over us. He pulls me closer and keeps his arm over me, kissing me once on the forehead. 

"Let's get some sleep, baby." He says quietly and I drift off feeling very safe and loved. 

* * *

I wake up feeling warm and happy as I open my eyes to the sight of Blair sleeping next to me. Our legs are tangled together and his head is on my chest where his breathing tickles my skin. I look at his face. He's actually smiling in his sleep. I must have done something right. I glance over at the clock. We've managed to sleep through the night. It's six in the morning, almost time to get up anyway. 

I untangle myself and slide out of bed. I'll make some coffee before I wake him. My stomach lets me know it's ready for some real food. That candy bar yesterday didn't stick with me very long and I'm in the mood now for some real food. Maybe we should go out. Get the breakfast special at the diner up the road. Now that's what I call a breakfast; eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, hash browns, toast and coffee. A man-sized breakfast for a man sized appetite. 

When the coffee's ready I carry a cup up for each of us. I want to sit in bed with him and drink coffee. How domestic. I love it. I hope he knows he's sleeping up here with me from now on. I sit the coffee cups on the nightstand and climb into bed, leaning over to cover his face with kisses. 

Finally he stirs and before his eyes are even open he kisses me back. Then he opens his eyes and smiles. 

"Jim." He says my name almost reverently. 

"I brought you coffee." 

He sits up and leans against his pillow. I hand him his coffee and take my own and we sit in silence for a few minutes while we each get our caffeine jolt to start the day with. 

"Blair, baby. I want you to move up here." I say. I'm pretty sure he'll like that idea but I still have that little doubt that says maybe I'm moving too fast. 

He laughs. "That's good because I wasn't planning on going anywhere." 

"Good. I love you." I say it again in the space of twenty-four hours. That's amazing. I'm just not usually that open with such private thoughts. I've always found it too easy to be hurt when you put your feelings out for anyone to see. 

"Jim." He says, reaching a hand over to hold mine. "I know it's hard for you to open up like that. Believe it or not it's hard for me too. I've never told anyone else that I loved them, except my mom, you know. But I do love you. I love you so much I think I'm overflowing with it. And I want you to know I'll never leave you, unless some day you want me to. But I hope that never happens, cause I don't know what I'd do without you." 

I take his cup and set both cups on the table. Then I hug him and kiss him and before I know it we're at it again. This time our kisses leave us both breathless or maybe it's the excitement. I move down, kissing and sucking my way down his chest until I get to his dick and I find it standing straight out. Suddenly I know I need to taste it. I've only done this once before, a very long time ago, and I didn't particularly like it. The taste was bad and I choked a couple of times. I managed to finish it but I knew then that I didn't want to do it again. But right now I want this so bad I couldn't stop for anything, well, unless Blair told me to stop. But one glance up at his face as I take the head of his penis in my mouth tells me there is no way he's going to tell me to stop. That expression must be what they mean when they say bliss because that's the most blissful look I've ever seen. 

I don't know how I suddenly seem to know how to do this but it feels natural like I've been doing it for years. I take him in deep and don't even feel the beginning of an urge to gag. He actually tastes good. Nectar of the gods in my own beautiful Blair Sandburg package. 

It doesn't take long before he's spurting down my throat and I find myself swallowing it down easily. As he softens in my mouth I give him a gentle last suck before I release his spent cock. I move up to kiss him gently. His eyes are closed and he has this look of pure ecstasy on his face. I feel so good that I could do that for him. 

I use my tongue to tickle his ears and he opens his eyes with a shudder. 

"God, Jim, where did you ever learn to do that?" 

"It's you babe. I couldn't do that with anyone else. I tried once and I hated it. But with you it's perfect. I loved it. I hope you enjoyed it cause I have to warn you. I'm going to want to do it a lot." 

He laughs and looks down. "I want to try it." He says and I feel my dick jump to attention almost before his words get to my brain. 

I nod, feeling kind of speechless. 

He pushes me onto my back and starts kissing his way down my chest, spending long minutes gently sucking each nipple. He's obviously taking great care with me, knowing I have sensitive skin. If I wasn't sure that he loved me the way he touches me would make me believe. I feel like a precious piece of antique porcelain when he touches me, like he thinks I might break if he's not extremely careful. 

My legs are trembling in anticipation when his mouth finally finds its way to my dick. He strokes my thighs before moving to massage my balls and then holds my cock still while he licks up the sides like it's some kind of ice cream cone. Just as I'm beginning to think I can't take any more his mouth engulfs me penis in one swift move and he starts humming as he moves up and down, almost swallowing me whole. I'm only good for a few seconds of this before I'm shooting into his mouth and to my surprise he just keeps me in his mouth and swallows until I shrink spent and wasted. 

He pulls his mouth off and looks at me as he licks his lips and moves up to kiss me. I know he's never done that before but that was an expert job. Knowing him he's probably researched it and knew exactly how it was done. Experience might be the best teacher but research is nothing to sneer at. 

"We have to go back to the scene today, as soon as we get dressed." He says, suddenly pulling away to get out of bed. 

"Why? We already know what happened. Rafe and Brown are assigned to the case and they're working in coordination with the police in South Carolina and now the FBI is getting involved since it's a verified kidnapping and it involves multi-state jurisdictions. There's really nothing more for us to do, Chief." 

"Yes, there is! We've got to find the kidnapper. There is no way I'm letting him get away after what he did. Now come on, get up and get your shower and get dressed because we have a long day ahead of us." He turns and heads downstairs, stopping at the top of the steps and giving me a sly smile. 

"Hey Jim, if you don't get your butt downstairs right now I won't let you share my shower." 

I make it to the bathroom just fast enough to get in the door right behind him. As he adjusts the water I think about how I'd do anything for him and he knows it and I wonder for a moment just which one of us is the alpha male in this equation. But as he orders me into the shower and I hop to it without giving it a thought I realize I already know the answer to that question. 

* * *

Jim seems reluctant at first to go back to the scene. I think he sees it as a waste of time and maybe he's also worried that it will bother me to go back there. But it won't bother me if it means we find some evidence to help track down the kidnapper. 

We get out of the truck just under the bridge and I look around, picturing my car and the child's body on the road. I look up at the bridge. 

"So, she was thrown from the bridge just as my car was approaching. Do you think thee meant for her to hit my car or do you think that was just an accident?" 

"Honestly, I think they were watching for somebody to come along so they could confuse the issue. I think they might have actually thought it would look like she died by accident and that way if they were ever caught they could say that she got away from them and wandered off. Save themselves a murder charge." 

"Okay that makes some sense, I guess. But they're not too bright then if they think that would have worked. Maybe they don't know anything about medical examiners being able to determine cause of death." I suggest. 

"So, maybe we're dealing with someone who isn't real with it in the brain department, maybe someone of diminished capacity." 

"Let's go up on the bridge and see if you can find anything. If this guy's not too bright, maybe he left clues." 

Jim drives us up onto Bay Street and we stop just before the bridge. Right away as soon as he gets out of the truck he notices something and takes off across the bridge. Right at the spot where the body would have been thrown over he stops and reaches down to the road, touching a puddle of gunk on the road surface. 

He looks up at me as I walk up to him. "Oil." He says and he looks down the road in the opposite direction from the truck. 

"We've got a trail to follow, Chief. His car is leaking oil. I think I can follow it." 

He starts walking away. I follow along. 

"Go get the truck and follow me." He says, handing me the keys. 

I run back and get the truck, driving slowly behind him. 

We follow the oil about a mile up the road before Jim stops and waves me over to the side. I park and hop out and he points over to a dirt road going off to the side. 

"He turned there." He says, handing me the phone. 

"Call Simon and stay here. Wait for backup. I'm just going to go scout ahead and see what I can find out." 

"No way, Jim! I'm going with you. I have a stake in this. I'm going with you." 

He takes the phone back and makes the call himself. Once he's advised Simon of our location, he puts the phone away and puts his hand on my shoulder. 

"You're right, Chief. Let's go." He says. 

I nod, glad that he's seen my reasoning, and follow along. 

We stay to the edge of the road. The woods on either side are pretty heavily grown so we sort of have some cover in case anybody comes down the road. 

It's a pretty long road and I've kind of gotten into a rhythm of walking so it catches me off guard when Jim abruptly stops and pulls me off into the bushes. Then I look up and see that we have come to the end of the road. There's a small cabin sitting in the woods, an old blue car parked by its side. 

I look at Jim. He's listening so I stay quiet and wait. 

"Two men inside. They're arguing. One of them wants to stay here. The other wants to leave. He says he's tired of being here and he wants to go home." Jim explains. Suddenly the cabin door bursts open and a man walks out. He's thin and wiry and wearing an old ripped pair of denim overalls with no shirt and he's barefoot. He pulls keys out of his pocket and heads for the car. 

Then another guy comes running out after him. "Oh, no ya don't. You ain't goin' anywheres, little brother. I'm the oldest so I'm in charge. Pa said so. You best get yer ass back in this cabin 'fore I tan it good." 

This guy was big. Big and bulky and basically dressed the same way as the other guy, except this one actually had an old beat up pair of tennis shoes on his feet. 

The skinny one turned back and looked at the big one. "When we goin' ta spend the money anyway? I want ta git me some shoes and maybe sum fancy clothes and we really fer sure could use a nice new car." 

"I tol' you, Freddy. We got ta wait a while afore we spend any of it. It'll look spicious if we's suddenly rich. e'rbody know we ain't got nuthin'. They'll know we dun sumpthin' wrong to get it." 

I was so busy listening to their conversation; trying to decide what backwoods area these guys were probably from that I didn't even notice when Jim pulled me back further into the bushes. 

"They don't look like they're going anywhere, Chief." 

I glanced back and noticed they were heading back into the cabin. I guess the big brother really was in charge. 

"We'll wait for back up. As long as they look like they're staying put there's no reason to move in without help." 

"They don't look all that dangerous, you know?" 

"That's true, but you never know. Just cause we didn't see anything on them doesn't mean they don't have weapons." 

What a let down. We waited forty-five minutes for backup to arrive and then Simon got on the bullhorn and ordered them to come out with their hands behind their heads and damn if they didn't come right out and surrender. 

I follow Jim over to the blue car. It was an old Ford Maverick with a puke green interior, I guess about a seventy-two or so. 

The brothers have been handcuffed and stowed safely in a patrol car. I stayed away from them not knowing what I might do if I got too close. I wanted to beat the crap out of them with a baseball bat but after hearing them talk and seeing the skinny one crying and saying "We didn't mean to do it." over and over again as he was searched and handcuffed, I kind of almost feel sorry for them now. Neither one of them seems to have much in the higher brain matter area. They probably didn't mean to kill the little girl. Even so she is dead and they do have to pay for their crimes. I kind of hope they put them in the same jail cell together so the big one can look after his wimpy brother. Otherwise he's bound to have a really tough time in prison. 

I watch as Jim opens the trunk and him and Simon start going through the contents. Rafe and Brown are inside searching the cabin. The money from the kidnapping is sitting in a suitcase in the trunk of the car. They didn't even take it inside with them and they still have it in the suitcase it was delivered in, the nametag with Breckenridge printed in bold letters dangling from the handle. No question of a conviction here. 

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this now, Chief?" I ask as I turn onto the coast road. 

"Yeah, I'm sure. I've given it a lot of thought and I just can't let this beat me." He says, looking out at the ocean water as we pass by. 

It's been five days since we caught the Roscoe brothers and they've since been sent back to South Carolina in the company of several FBI agents. Bobby and Freddie Roscoe turned out to be the only surviving sons of a farmer who had died just three months before the kidnapping took place. Their farm was near the Breckenridge home. They had done some odd jobs around the house for the Breckenridge's over the past few years so Marissa was used to seeing them around and was easily coaxed out of the yard and into the back seat of their car. 

They had taken her back to the farm and kept her there until they collected the ransom money. Then they figured they'd better hold onto her long enough to be sure they'd made a clean getaway so they put her in the back seat and started heading west. They had figured to go to California, having heard it was nice there, but they made a few wrong turns and ended up in Washington State. 

Marissa had gotten a bit fussy on the long road trip so they had stopped and bought some over the counter sleeping pills to dissolve in her juice to keep her quiet. It seemed to work well but at some point along the way they realized they had given her too much and she wasn't going to wake up. That's when they panicked and Bobby came up with the idea to throw her over the side of the bridge onto a passing car so it would look like they'd hit her. 

They had driven around until they'd found a wooded area and an old abandoned cabin with a bridge nearby. Then they waited until late at night and parked their car on the bridge. Freddie had thrown a rock to break the streetlight so they wouldn't be seen and they had waited almost an hour before Blair had driven toward the bridge in his Volvo. 

As soon as the body had hit the windshield they had taken off back to the cabin and stayed put. Bobby wanted to stay hidden away in the cabin for at least a month but Freddie had been driving him crazy with his constant complaining. Freddie was homesick. 

I pull the truck up in back of the Volvo. I left it sitting here when I found Blair on the rocks and he had imagined blood dripping down the windshield. I didn't know if he'd ever be able to drive it again since it would always be attached to such a terrible memory. But this morning he'd surprised me by asking me to give him a ride out to pick up his car. 

"I have to face up to it sometime, Jim. I wanted to get rid of the Volvo and try to put it out of my mind forever. But I know I can't do that. And somehow the more I thought about it the more it seems like the right thing to do is to keep the car. It'll be like a kind of memorial to Marissa, a little girl I never met but who had a major impact on my life. I have to conquer my fear in honor of Marissa." 

We sit in the truck without saying a word. I know he's working himself up for this. He pulls his keys out of his pocket and looks over at me with a crooked little smile on his face. 

I lean over and pull him in for a kiss. 

He smiles and opens the door, hopping out and walking quickly over to the Volvo. Before he gets in he takes one more look back at me and nods giving me a quick thumbs up as he slides into the seat. 

A moment later the engine grinds to a start and he pulls out into the road, making a u-turn and heading for home. I turn the truck and follow him. It's Saturday morning and it's early yet. We're both off and have the whole day free so spend together. I find myself giggling. 

Wait a minute. Ellisons don't giggle. But I think again about what we'll probably spend the day doing together and I giggle again. Yeah, that was a giggle all right. There's only one person who could make me, Jim Ellison, giggle. And I'm right at this moment following him home to our bed. Somehow though, I don't think I'm going to be spending the whole day giggling. 

The End 


End file.
